Scarred Angel
by LAWchan89
Summary: "It's okay, he's gone now. He can't hurt you anymore." Nobody's gonna hurt you anymore, he wanted to add…but there was nothing cool about making promises he couldn't keep.


A/N: This is just a quick one-I was inspired by a fanart to write this down. Mostly for the "aww" factor. Hope you enjoy it!

I still don't own Soul Eater. Not even a little bit.

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_Scarred Angel_

Soul Eater didn't find it convenient for him to convert back into his human form until he and Maka reached the apartment—bruised, bloody and exhausted, but another corrupted soul down. Mostly because he was lazy and just decided to let his partner carry him back in scythe form while he closed his eyes for a few minutes, willing the pounding against his temples to stop.

"Wake up, you lazy bum, we're home," Maka muttered grouchily, sending him clattering to the floor before she flopped down on the couch, smattering it in their opponent's blood. Wolverine was obviously a three-star meister or Grim Reaper assignment once they got a good look at him and his attack techniques, but with Kid still recovering from Noah's capture, Maka had jumped at the chance to accept the challenge. That was very nearly the biggest mistake of her life as the unrelenting overgrown dog countered them at every turn, his razor sharp claws showing no mercy on the quick-wielding yet physically fragile two-star meister. Had her Death Scythe not scolded her to get it in gear, had her instincts not been sharp despite her injuries, she would be lying torn in two in a bloody mass on the ground instead of Wolverine, her tiny soul consumed instead of his blood red one.

"Did you have to throw me like that?" Soul grumbled back at her, forcing Maka to open her weary eyes as the blinding blue streak of light transformed him back into her human partner. "I've got a bad enough headache from slicing his hairy head off as it is."

"Shut up, I'm the one who did most of the work—and _then _you made me carry you home!" Maka winced as her voice rose to a shouting pitch and she leaned her head back on the pillows, this simple exertion of emotion having worn her out. Soul looked up at her from the floor, her breathing rapid and shallow, and his insides froze. Maybe she was more injured than he thought…

"Hey…you alright?" he asked in the most cool, casual voice he could manage. Maka inhaled sharply, her eyebrows knitting together, and Soul mentally kicked himself for making her lug him around on her shoulder. "Maka, answer me."

"I'm fine, just tired," Maka dismissed just as casually, waving her hand at him, "Haven't had a workout like that in a while." Stretching her hands over her head, she swung her legs over the side of the couch to sit up, giving Soul her "everything's just fine" smile with a short little laugh. "Who was that brute anyway?"

"If I didn't know better, I'd say Free's ugly third cousin, four times removed," Soul wisecracked, and Maka laughed full out this time. "C'mon, let's go to bed."

"I gotta shower first, I don't even wanna _know _what got on me," Maka wrinkled her nose down at her blood and guts-smeared Spartoi outfit as she made her way to the bathroom.

"Don't take forever," Soul called after her as she shut the bathroom door behind her. Alone in the living room, Soul sprawled out on the couch on his stomach, picked up the remote and flipped on the TV—where some bad horror movie _Return of the Wolfman_ was playing. "Oh great, _just _what I wanna see right now," he muttered into the pillow. Turning the volume down low, he shut his eyes for a couple minutes, emptying his mind in an attempt to rid himself of this blinding headache.

_Gimme a break…_he thought once he realized the pain was not ebbing in the slightest. Hearing Maka turn the water on in the shower, Soul forced himself to leave the couch and go to the bathroom to get the tablets. Nygus had given them to each of the Spartoi weapons to keep their stamina up and rid them of any hindrances—like killer headaches—that might affect their performance. For Soul particularly, they also weren't bad for keeping the temptation of the Black Blood at bay. Not caring that he had just taken a couple pills three hours ago, he pushed open the bathroom door to grab them from the medicine cabinet. He would have, if not for the shriek that met his ears once the door opened, and Soul jumped backward into the doorway.

"Don't you _knock _anymore?" Maka screamed, flinging her pale green bathrobe around her front and turning away from him.

"You turned the water on, so I assumed you were already—!" Soul was all set to retort in his own defense, but one glimpse at Maka stopped him short. It wasn't her breasts, which had grown considerably in the short time he'd lived with her, giving his previously flat-chested roommate a bit of cleavage to show off. It wasn't even her toned shapely behind, fully exposed before him that caused him to stare so intently.

It was the five deep scratches in her back, partly concealed by her loose blonde hair still stained with blood from the fight. It was like someone had punched Soul in the stomach, completely knocking the wind out of him. And Maka stood frozen, looking at him over her shoulder, like a little girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar. The only sound, for several moments, came from the warm running shower water.

"It's nothing," Maka said hastily, trying to tug the robe around her back as Soul approached her in two quick strides. "Soul, it's _nothing_!" she repeated desperately, but her weapon gripped her arm tightly and forced her to turn around, her back to him. Flinging her hair out of the way, a string of swearwords left his lips—it was even worse up close.

"Did Wolverine—?"

"No," Maka whispered, shaking her bowed head back and forth. As Soul examined them closer, he saw these cuts were not fresh, but scabbed over with dark congealed blood, and he knew this could not have happened tonight. It had happened before. It had happened before and he hadn't known about it. And that was the clincher to the whole thing.

"Who did this to you?" A shiver went up Maka's spine as she heard that growl. It was the same growl she heard the night they first met Stein, when she had fallen and the next thing she knew, her scythe was shielding her from harm. It was a growl like a wolf protecting his pack—a growl when he, Soul, was protecting her.

She said nothing, and his grip on her shoulders grew tighter. "_I'm talking to you, Maka! Answer the question!_"

"Giriko," Maka stated firmly, looking around at him over her shoulder, her glaring gaze piercing him. "Happy now?"

No, he wasn't happy. He couldn't get any further from "happy". That wheezing chainsaw, trapped in the Sloth chapter of the Book of Eibon. That filthy scum who didn't deserve the time of day had defiled her even more than he realized. "Get in the shower."

"Not 'til you leave," Maka declared firmly, holding the bathrobe closer to her bare front.

"Just get in, I'm gonna wash your back!" Soul's voice rose in agitation, _what kind of guy does she think I am?_ Turning his head away, he let Maka drop her robe and step into the cascade of warm water. Lathering up a loofa with soap, Soul gently scrubbed Maka's wounds clean while she washed her hair. They were deep, that's for sure; the cuts started bleeding afresh as soon as he applied pressure. "Did you have anyone look at these?" he muttered, trying his hardest to keep his anger at bay.

"No," Maka answered, flinging her wet hair back and spraying him with water. "Like I said, Soul, _it's nothing. You're _the one making a big thing out of this."

"It _is _a big thing, Maka!" Soul burst out. "These could get infected if they aren't treated! How could you—how—?"

"How _what?_" Maka asked, her back still to him.

"How could you not tell me about this?" he said softly. The wounds looked a bit better now; the blood was gone and pink scars ran the length of his meister's bare back.

"'Cause I knew this is how you'd react," she answered just as quietly, turning off the water and wringing her hair out while Soul grabbed her robe up off the floor.

"Fine, 'scuse me for caring," Soul said, stung by her resentful tone, tossing her robe in her face. "That wasn't cool." Wrenching open the cabinet, he grabbed the pills for his now splitting head, slammed the mirror shut and left Maka to her business.

_Well, yelling at her about it wasn't cool either, _he thought as he sat down on his bed, popping the pills into his mouth and chugging them down with a can of soda. _But seriously, does she think being __strong__ means suffering all by herself? Doesn't she know I'm always here for her? That I'd die for her?_ It wasn't something he said because he was supposed to, not just because it was a weapon's job to put his life on the line for his meister—he _meant _it. Soul would die for Maka, without hesitation, if it meant keeping her from harm. He crushed the now empty can in his fist. He hadn't kept her from harm...he saw that now tonight.

Heading back to the deserted bathroom, Soul tossed the can in the trash before knocking on the door that connected the bathroom to Maka's room. "Hang on…" came her reply, and he heard a slight shuffling behind the door, most likely trying to make herself look decent. "Okay, come in." Soul pushed open the door and stepped inside, but Maka wasn't totally decent. Her bottom was covered this time in pajama pants and her hair hung loose and wet about her shoulders. Her bra was on, but not hooked in the back, for she was examining the scars on her back in front of her full length mirror when Soul entered.

"They…they look better," Maka said hesitantly, covering her front with her pajama top as she turned toward him. She smiled slightly, "Thank you."

"Here, sit down," Soul said, indicating the bed as he headed back to the bathroom. Searching through the medicine cabinet again, he found the peroxide ointment Nygus had given him for his own scar across his chest months ago. He remembered the first few weeks he used it—the scar was so deep, it hurt like hell when the ointment absorbed into his skin, but it definitely sped up the healing process. Heading back into the room, he saw Maka was now fully clothed sitting patiently waiting for him.

"Shirt off," he ordered, flipping the top off the tube of ointment, and Maka gave him a Look before turning her back to him and removing her top. "Alright I'm not gonna lie, this is gonna hurt bad," Soul told her honestly, squeezing the pale green goo into his palm and rubbing it in. Ever so gently, he began to massage the balm into the long pink scars along his meister's back. The pain was instantaneous as Maka gasped out loud, her nails digging into her palm as she fought against crying out. Soul murmured every apology under the sun, assuring her that it was almost done as he worked his hands along the length of her back while she whimpered into her fists stuffed against her mouth. "Okay, I'm done…it's over now," Soul said soothingly, mostly because he couldn't stand hearing Maka in pain anymore.

"I'm sorry," Maka whispered as Soul wrapped her robe around her, still tensing as the cream absorbed into her wounds. To Soul's surprise, she leaned against his chest, burying her face in his neck, "I'm so sorry I didn't tell you."

"It's alright, just…just don't cry." His neck was growing damp, and Soul knew it wasn't from her hair.

"He—he was just on top of me out of nowhere," came Maka's partially muffled voice as Soul wrapped his arms carefully around her, minding her back. "'_I wanna hear you scream_' he said—'_Let me hear you scream_'!"

"I know, I was there remember?" Soul whispered in a pathetic attempt to lighten the mood.

"He reached around me and his hand—it—it slithered under me and grabbed hold of my back. His nails…they're just as sharp as a chainsaw blade."

She continued to cry silently, and Soul pulled her a bit closer on impulse, resting his cheek against her wet hair. "It's okay, he's gone now. He can't hurt you anymore." _Nobody's__ gonna hurt you anymore_, he wanted to add…but there was nothing cool about making promises he couldn't keep.

"Soul?" Maka sniffled while he dwelled on this, looking up at him through olive green eyes, her blonde eyelashes dewed with tears. "What's the matter?"

"What makes you think something's the matter?" Soul tried to brush off—but there was no lying to those bright green orbs boring into his crimson ones.

"I'm your partner…I can feel your soul wavelengths," Maka answered.

_Damn Soul Perception…_

"Something's really bothering you."

"I thought…" Soul trailed off, swallowing hard as he lowered his head, dropping his arms from around her as if in defeat. "I thought I had stopped him. Giriko. I thought I'd gotten him off you before he did any…damage." _For lack of a better term_.

"Soul, I'm not blaming you for what happened," Maka said quietly. "It's—it's done. But I promise, this is the worst of it."

"You swear he didn't do anything else to you?" Soul prodded.

"I swear," Maka said determinedly. Then she reached up and cupped his cheek in her hand, "No more hiding stuff from you."

"Glad to hear it," Soul whispered. He wasn't sure, but he felt something with her warm hand against his face, her thumb stroking his cheek. It was the same thing he felt when holding her while she cried into his shoulder. Something about it all just felt…_right_.

"Feel better now?" she smiled, letting her hand fall.

"Yeah…you?"

She wiped her eyes on the back of her wrist, "I will be."

"Hey, look." Lifting his shirt over his head, Soul revealed the long jagged scar Stein had stitched up along his chest down the length of his torso. "We match now."

Maka's smile faded, "That's not funny." She still had trouble looking at the remains of his injury—still had trouble facing what she believed she had done to him, on that assignment in Italy that seemed like an eternity ago.

"Wasn't trying to be," Soul said, tossing his shirt aside. "We've both got baggage to carry now, Maka. So let's face it together, alright?"

Maka let her head turn back towards him, letting her eyes linger on his scar as if trying to force herself not to fear it any longer. Very slowly, she reached up, and with a lone index finger, traced the length of his scar…from his shoulder to his waist, sending a shiver of distinct pleasure up Soul's spine. "Alright," she whispered.

"Cool," Soul grinned. As if in response to her touch, he reached up around her back and let his fingers find where the five scars were imprinted. Laying the tips against her skin, he gently traced the length of her scars, as if by doing so would heal them instantly. Maka closed her eyes and sighed deeply…whatever he was doing, she liked it, which was good enough for him.

And then his meister did the weirdest thing of all—she leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on his scar, right where his heart was. Soul felt the heat rise into his cheeks as Maka pulled back to gaze at him—he was sure his blush must have been as bright as hers, if not redder. "Stay with me…in here tonight?"

_That came out of nowhere_. _But…_"Sure, why not." He lay down on her bed, letting Maka place herself close beside him, snuggling up against his still bare chest. He could practically feel their souls, working together as one as they harmonized in this intimacy with eachother.

It wasn't just the partnership of a meister and weapon. Something else was there, too. Soul just couldn't quite place what it was.

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A/N: Like I said, short sweet and to the point :D I love reviews, so don't forget to leave one!


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